Work For You
by thereasonitry
Summary: With Michael the Archangel MIA, God needs a new commander for Heaven. He chooses Dean Winchester. Dean is surprised. No one else is. PreSeries AU verse. Will usually update every other Friday.
1. God Has Work For You

Dean Winchester didn't believe in God. It wasn't surprising, all things considered. In the twenty four short years he'd been alive, so much shit had hit the fan, said fan had broken a few years back. No one ever bothered to fix it.

So when one day Dean prayed to the Lord, asking for his family to 'please pull their heads out of their asses, amen' he didn't expect a response. But he got one, anyway.

It came in the form of a text message. 'I can give you a family,' it said. Intriguing and suspicious at the same time, sure, but Dean wasn't convinced it was from The Man Upstairs. No, he'd need some proof.

He received another text. This one read, 'does this count as proof, Dean?' He came close to smashing the phone, but managed to hold himself back. This had to be a trick, there was no other explanation. 'There's always another explanation, Dean. Surely you know that better than anyone?'

'No,' Dean thought, 'there's no way God is texting me. He's not real.' Two more texts arrived. 'Of course I'm real, Dean,' said the first. This was quickly followed up with, 'do you want a family?'

The last text was a low blow. 'A real family?' But it hit the nail on the head. A family, a real one, was all that Dean really wanted. He'd had one a long time ago. Right up until he hit four years old.

When his mother Mary had burned on the ceiling, she wasn't the only one to die that night. After the fire, John, the loving, caring father, had vanished. In his place was a strict drill sargeant; who only seemed to care about hunting. And Sam.

It was as though this new John only had one son, and Dean was just a soldier. A five year old soldier whose only job in life was to 'take care of Sammy.'

Sam had always been the rebellious one. But that was only because Dean had raised him to think for himself. And because, due to their similar personalities, he and John always ended up butting heads. Over everything.

It also hadn't helped that Sam was some kind of genius in school. Their father had always helped little Sammy with his homework, but when Dean would ask, John would brush him off; instructing him to go figure it out by himself.

Dean had discovered early on that while his grades didn't matter, Sam's did. Didn't stop him from getting A's anyway. The only difference was that Dean didn't rush home and shove a 100% in his father's face; waiting for praise. Didn't stop him from carefully collecting all of his graded papers, though.

Dean was a little proud of himself for aceing all of his tests and quizzes. Most of them he didn't even have time to study for because of some hunt. Still got the A.

Though family dynamics were cracked, the family didn't break. They held together through thick and thin. Until one day, Sam decided he didn't want to hunt anymore. Yes, not-so-little-anymore Sammy had gotten a full ride to Stanford, and he intended to go.

Of course, this caused even more verbal assaults to crop up between Sam and John. Dean ended up going outside to 'get some fresh air,' when most of them got too heated. But one day, after a particularly angry debate, Sam walked out. He just left.

Naturally, John thought he would come back. He didn't. Then, a short while later, John left, too. During the night. The next morning, Dean had woken up alone.

Dean had decided to find his father, and was alternating between hunting and searching for him. But the trail was cold, and Dean wasn't any closer to finding him than he'd been when he first started looking.

And that was how Dean found himself sitting on a motel bed in the middle of nowhere, pondering the question proposed to him by 'God.'

Dean decided to think about it while he finished up this hunt, then text a response. After all, what could God mean by 'a real family?' He would kill this werewolf, and then he'd have an answer.

Dean grabbed his gun, extra silver bullets, and his favorite black jacket. He closed the motel room door with a thump, and then was off.

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In retrospect, Dean wondered why he thought this was a good idea again? Going after a werewolf alone in the dead of night, that is. Not the family thing. He was still working on that though; he'd just pushed it to the back of his mind.

Humans didn't have night vision. Werewolves did. Humans have a slight disadvantage when they run from werewolves. In the dead of night. With no night vision, which would allow them to avoid tripping over certain things. Tree roots, for example.

Dean currently found himself sprawled on the forest floor. Damn trees and their damn overgrown roots, he thought bitterly. The werewolf seemed to realize that it's prey, Dean, was longer able to escape.

Dean imagined that the creature was laughing at the clumsy nature of humans, and praising the very same tree root that had tripped him up. The wolf turned towards Dean, baring its teeth in a snarl. The sharp white canines stood out against the blackness of the night, making them seem even more lethal.

A growl reverberated through the forest, sending an involuntary shiver down the young hunter's spine. Dean scooted backwards rapidly, putting as much distance between him and the wolf as he possibly could. He swore under his breath when his back hit a tree, preventing further backwards movement, and Dean knew he was screwed.

The question flashed through his mind at that moment, and Dean knew what he had to do. 'Yes! I do want a real family! It's all I've ever wanted, but you already knew that, didn't you?' Dean projected the thoughts as loudly as possible, then readied himself for his inevitable fate. He closed his eyes, waiting...

...And waiting...and waiting...still waiting...Dean risked peeking, only to find himself in what looked like a psychiatrist's office.

White walls, ugly carpeting, and smelling of musty old books. Yep, definitely a psychiatrist's office. There was even the incredibly comfy looking couch where people poured their life stories out to people taking notes on what was wrong with them.

Sometimes they would get emotional, and the shrink would hand them a tissue...hey, there's even the tissue box sitting on a table over there. Right next to the fake flower pot.

Now that Dean had scanned the room, he glanced over to where the psychiatrist always sat. There was a tall-ish old man sitting there, staring at him with a patient look on his face.

He had a pair of big old fashioned glasses, the ones that made your eyes look three times bigger than they really were. He also had tufts of hair growing everywhere, especially around the glasses, except for the top of his head. Adorned in business casual, a sweater vest, the man fit right in and seemed like he came with the room.

The man gave Dean a smile, revealing perfect pearly whites, and gestured for him to lay down on the large couch. Casting the man a weary glance, Dean began to inch his way towards the seat. Upon reaching it, he promptly plopped down heavily and sighed.

It was amazing how the scenery had changed so fast. But what had happened? Had the werewolf gotten him? Was he dead? Or was this something else entirely?

"No, Dean, you aren't dead. The werewolf didn't get to you, you're alright." Dean whipped his head around to look at the man. He could read thoughts, apparently. Maybe this was God. He had yelled that he wanted a real family as loud as he could in his mind, earlier.

"Was what you thought true, or just some spur of the moment thing?" Dean reconsidered what he'd said earlier. Even though he'd been in mortal danger at the time, Dean had still meant every word. "It was all true. Every word."

The man smiled, clearly pleased with the response. "Well then Dean, how would you like to become part of the angelic family?" Dean did a double take. Surely he must heard wrong? This being wanted to make him into an angel? An honest to God angel?

The man chuckled, "not just an angel, Dean. An archangel." He said it like the arch in front of angel made all the difference. Which, based on dean's knowledge of the bible, it did. "You'd be taking Michael's place as commander of the Host. He's currently... well, MIA, I guess you could say."

Dean was shocked, "wait, you're telling me that Heaven's head honcho is nowhere to be found? Not only that, but you want me to replace him?" The man seemed amused. "You appear surprised, Dean. Do you not think that you deserve this position? This family?"

Oh, well that's just not fair. God was playing the family card...but Dean was sure he could trump that. "I don't. I'm as far from pure as you can possibly get, and I ruin everything I touch. Look at my current family, for crying out loud! The Winchester's are messed up, and it's all on me! I was never good enough. I couldn't save mom, and I couldn't please dad. Hell, I couldn't even take care of Sam. He left anyway."

God blinked at Dean owlishly from behind his huge bifocals. Damn, he needed to get new glasses. "Dean, it's thanks to you that your family stayed together as long as it did. You had no control over your mother's death, and Sam is his own person, so he makes his own decisions. John was never a model father, and always expected far too much for his own good."

Wow, having God tell you that you did good. It was pretty much the ultimate praise, and Dean had a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach at being acknowledged. "So, Dean, would you like to become the leader of the angels? I could really use your help. There are some foot soldiers that could use some interaction with the more human aspects of life."

"What do you mean? Are they, like, socially awkward or something?" God cringed slightly, "you could say that. One in particular, Castiel, could make good use of your expertise in the area. He's...struggling to grasp the concept of humanity." Dean nodded, "well put."

God cracked a smile at that one, but then it was back to business. "That's only one of the problems. There are so many more, I've lost count. The angels need you as much as, or even more than you need them as a family. Trust me, Dean, I would know. So, what do you say?"

Dean shrugged, "sounds good to me. But how do I go about 'becoming an angel?' Is it gonna hurt?" God shook His head. "No pain involved, but you may feel some slight discomfort when the change takes place. I'm going to alter time and space to make it as though you've always been an archangel. It won't affect you or anyone else, but it will be...unpleasant. Just try to relax."

Dean nodded silently and did as he was told, relaxing completely. He sank slightly into the cushiony fabric coating the couch; sighing.

A strange sensation soon started in his gut. It was the 'butterflies in the stomach' feeling, and it quickly flowed throughout Dean's entire body. The feeling congregated by Dean's shoulder blades were, which is where he assumed wings would go after this 'procedure.'

Eventually, everything faded, leaving Dean numb and fatigued. What God had done seemed to have sapped his strength.

When Dean could move again, a few minutes later, he cautiously sat forward and stretched. He caught God's eyes, and He gave Dean a reassuring glance. The young hunter stood and wobbled slightly, not used to being so top heavy.

Besides the wings, Dean noticed some other physical differences. Everything appeared sharper than before, as though he was seeing it in HD, and he felt more powerful.

The wings themselves, however, were definitely the coolest. Jet black, with tiny flecks of green that matched his eye color splayed artfully throughout. The feathers were shiny and beautiful; seeming to reflect every color of the rainbow when light passed over them.

They were large, with a full wingspan of at least twelve feet spanning the three pairs of dark wings. Yet they still managed to settle comfortably against his back and not get in the way. Dean was in awe.

While Dean was oohing and ahhing over his new heavenly appendages, God was grinning from ear to ear, and wondering how to go about introducing Dean to everyone. Maybe he'd start with Lucifer...


	2. Lucifer is Way Nicer in Real Life

When God had asked Dean if he wanted to meet Lucifer first, Dean had said sure. He'd always been one to give people the benefit of the doubt, anyway, so why not? Well, Dean can safely say that Lucifer is nothing like what he was expecting. He doesn't regret saying sure, though, and he never will.

Lucifer currently resided in what appeared to be the bedroom of a teenage boy. The walls were a plain white, but you could hardly see them underneath the hoards of posters taped and stapled to nearly every inch of wall and ceiling.

Dirty clothing littered the slightly stained, pale gray carpeting. An electric guitar was propped up against the edge of an unmade bed, still plugged into the amplifier. The solitary desk pushed up against the wall was covered in papers, sheet music and homework alike. Ahh...the room of the average rebellious teen. But what was the morning star doing in here?

Lucifer himself wasn't the only one in the room when Dean stepped through the doorway, wings rustling behind him. The devil was sitting Indian style on a portion of the floor clear of debris. Next to Lucifer, was the boy, Dean suspected, who was the rightful owner of the room.

The kid looked to be around fifteen, with gangling limbs and blue jeans that had so many rips and tears, they were practically rags. Any normal self respecting person, who wasn't a teenager, would have tossed them in the trash. But this was a teen deep in the throes of puberty. A time when raging hormones made you do things that you'd regret later in life. Especially if you were a neat freak.

The kid had a mop of curly hair absently tucked under a hat, and acne. Completing the 'I don't really care' look was a pencil gray t-shirt about three sizes too big, and seemed to be a hand me down because the kid was swimming in it. Plus the damn thing had practically been white washed.

Based on the relaxed atmosphere, Trevor, the kid, was pretty used to the devil popping into his bedroom for a visit. The two were chatting, much the same way as two school girls having a phone conversation or sharing the latest gossip.

Both of them noticed Dean eavesdropping after about a minute. Lucifer adopted a pensive look for a moment, and then grinned broadly. It kind of creeped Dean out, to tell the truth. The devil then told Trevor he'd be back later, and when the teen nodded, stood up and started towards Dean.

When Lucifer stood up, his wingspan was revealed as the brown beauties unfurled. The tips of the devil's wings were white, and as Dean took in the full colors, he realized that they reminded him of a bird's wings. From the tips, the wings got steadily darker, ending with a dark chocolaty brown near their center.

When Lucifer noticed Dean staring, his wings ruffled slightly in an embarrassed sort of way. The devil was sensitive about his wings...who knew? Dean looked down, his own wings folding into an apologetic position of their own accord.

Then Lucifer grinned, and Dean knew they were okay. Waving good bye to Trevor, the two archangels exited the room.

Dean would have liked to ask about the kid, but knew that if he needed to know, Luci would tell him. Besides, he was too busy with a face full of feathers and a lack of oxygen to worry about it. As soon as they weren't visible to Trevor, the devil had wrapped Dean in a crushing hug.

Dean knew two things for certain, one, somewhere, God was laughing at him. And two, Lucifer was way nicer in real life.

Eventually, Dean was able to disentangle himself from the very clingy morning star. "Hey, Luci." Lucifer beamed at him. "Hi Dean. Welcome to the family." Lucifer turned serious then, "you'll need an angel name, then, won't you? Not to worry though, we'll think of a good one. You'll see."

Dean smiled back at Lucifer, "yeah well...better not be one of the stupid ones," he said good-naturedly. Lucifer gave him an innocent look. "But Dean, whichever ones could you mean?"

The new archangel snorted and patted the devil on the back, "I'm sure we'll get along just fine. By the way, Dad said that you were never 'cast down from the heavens' and into your cage, but how hard of hearing did the guys who wrote the Bible have to be to mess that up?"

The morning star laughed, "they heard right, we just didn't tell them the truth. They needed to know the difference between good and evil, so we gave them a literal metaphor. There isn't really a devil, but there is a Hell. Michael has always run it in the past. Come to think of it, even though he's missing, that place is going strong. Huh."

Dean had more questions. "Hey, was that kid, Trevor, dead? Was that his heaven?" Lucifer nodded, "yeah, the poor boy got hit by a car when he was fifteen. He didn't recover. But we talk sometimes, he's a good kid. Oh, hey, do you want to see my heaven?" The archangel shrugged, "sure, why not?

Lucifer's wings fluffed up excitedly, and he grabbed Dean's arm. Then they were standing in the middle of a huge room. It looked like a palace; with a large golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling that dean had to tilt his head all the way back to see. The entire room was swathed in rich purples and reds. In short, it was beautiful.  
Lucifer was eagerly awaiting his opinion, wings rustling nervously behind him. He grinned when Dean turned towards him, smiling widely. "Dude, this place is awesome," Dean said. "Glad you like it, brother." Lucifer was happy, if a little embarrassed that Dean liked his heaven so much. He was going to love having a new brother.

Dean felt similar, glad to have someone how seemed to like him here. He could fit right in, and then everything would work out. Lucifer actually reminded him of Sammy when he was six. His brother had been very affectionate and touchy feely then, and it seemed that the morning star was the same way.

Dean wondered what his father and brother were doing while he was in heaven. Dad was probably on some job, or maybe at a sleazy bar or motel room. Sammy was at college and he'd been there for years now. Sam had left a hole in Dean's heart when he left, and for once, it looked like someone could fill it. The devil was his new little brother now.

"Boys, I need you to go on a mission for me." Dean and Lucifer whipped around at the same time, to see God standing behind them, smiling. "What kind of mission, Father?" Lucifer cocked his head to the side, looking curious. Dean nodded; he wanted to know what kind of quest God was sending them on, too.

"I want Dean to get used to being an archangel, Lucifer, so I want you to go with him and make some miracles. We need Dean to have publicity, so that the humans will start praying to him as well as other angels. I also need you to help train him to use his powers, as he is just as powerful as any of you, alright?" The morning star turned to grin at Dean, then looked back at God. "Of course, Father. I'll help my new brother out, don't you worry. It'll be fun."

The Father glanced between them, eyes dancing amusement. "Have fun, boys," He said softly, "I'll visit again later." Then He was gone.

"Let's go, let's go, let's go! Come on, I know where we can go to train." The devil once again grasped Dean's forearm and then there was that jerk again, a tug in his gut. Another room appeared before him, this one more modest than Lucifer's had been.

It looked sort of like a gymnasium, but had a certain 'holy' quality to it. It was large and open, and had easily enough space to move around in. Dean took in everything within seconds and committed it to memory.

Since Dean had been angelified, his memory had been flawless, and he could remember his entire life in picture perfect detail. It was like looking through a scrapbook, or watching home movies. Angels must have photographic memories. At least, that was the conclusion Dean had reached.

Dean knew about training. After all, he'd faced off against Sammy while their father looked on enough times in the past. But it was painful to think of his human family now, so Dean shoved them to the back of his mind. He needed to focus on the present.

Training participants were to stand a handful of yards apart, and ready themselves before engaging in any sort of combat. He walked over to the middle of the room, and stood about three yards away from Lucifer, but directly in front of him.

The morning star was unarmed at first, but before Dean could blink, he was holding a weapon. A sword, to be specific. Sharpened to perfection, and reflecting Lucifer's wing pattern, the silver blade was magnificent. It was Lucifer's sword, after all.

The devil gestured to the blade in his hand, and then at Dean. "You'll be able to summon an archangel blade, too. Just concentrate on having the weight of it in your hand, and picture it in your mind. It'll come, don't worry." The hunter nodded, following the advice.

He pictured Excalibur in his mind from that one King Arthur movie he saw, all those years ago. Only instead of Arthur pulling the sword from the stone, it was him. Dean thought it was a fitting metaphor, because prince of the angels now, and all that.

One second air was brushing against Dean's palm; the next cool metal was clenched in his fist. Dean opened eyes he didn't realize he'd closed, and looked down in shock. Even Lucifer's awesome sword paled in comparison to the one Dean held.

Where Lucifer's was silver, Dean's was gold. The thing was glowing with the light of heaven and, wait. The light of heaven? Where had that come from? Dean Winchester does not say things like that. But then Dean remembered that he wasn't just Dean Winchester anymore. He was an archangel now.

Anyway, the sword was blinding. No pun intended. It made Dean wonder if he could summon more than the sword to him. Lucifer was apparently either reading his mind, or really good at telling what he was thinking, because he said, "you can summon the sword in other forms as all as the sword, Dean." Cool. "Really, Luci?"

The morning star nodded, "yes, your sword can be summoned in the form of any weapon you could ever need. You just have to remember to summon it differently, of else it'll show up as the sword." Dean had figured as much, but was glad to know that he would never have to worry about losing his weapon again.

"That's not all, Dean. Let's see how good you are at fighting with that thing, and go from there. Bet you can't beat me."

The new archangel laughed and smirked, "you're on!"


	3. Michael, the Least Angelic of All Angels

By the end of swords training, Dean was dead on his feet. But he, Lucifer and Father were proud of his progress, so it wasn't all bad. Dean knew this wouldn't be easy, but he always did like a good challenge.

It hadn't just been sword training, either. Lucifer had taught Dean how to completely master his powers and abilities.

Angels are a powerful species in general, but the archangels were amazing. Everything an average foot soldier could do, archangels could do better. While the angels could read minds, archangels could read thoughts, emotions, and memories. That was just the beginning.

Dean was taking Michael's place, so he was the most powerful of the archangels. Though he had yet to meet the others, except for the morning star. Lucifer had told him that there were four in total, Dean, Lucifer, Gabriel, and Raphael.

Father had told him that he would meet Gabriel and Raphael soon, but after he trained and ready. Sounded good to Dean.

There were some things that came naturally with being an angel if any kind. Knowledge, for example, was a big one. Dean hadn't even realized it, but he could easily quote any line of the Bible. It was like the books of genesis, revelation, and others were bookmarked in his mind.

Lucifer had asked him how many days it had taken Father to create everything. Dean had never read the Bible in his life, yet he knew nonetheless.

Telepathy and flight were also big. The angels contacted each other through what Dean sometimes called the 'heavenly phone lines' or 'angel radio.' The latter was like a drone of the voices of all angels in creation.

Sometimes it was soothing, like background music. Other times, the angels were singing beautiful melodies that wove gently throughout Dean's mind like a fog and would be calming to anyone within range.

The 'heavenly phone lines' allowed you to speak to only one angel, as opposed to the entire host. Speaking to other angels using these methods were always useful, as you didn't need to use a phone. It was nice.

Flight was an entirely different story.

Dean had a deep seated fear of flying. The first time he flew on a plane, he'd gripped the arm rests so hard that his knuckles turned white. As a human, flying had seemed like the most unnatural thing possible.

As an archangel though...it was like breathing. It was something he never had to learn or be taught, because it was more like instinct. To an angel, flight was a leisurely, and peaceful thing. But to humans, angels flew so fast that they could just disappear. It was like they could teleport.

So, after weapon's training, Lucifer and Dean had gone to see God. Dean was curious about the details of how Michael disappeared. Plus, being an archangel, it was kind of important for him to know, anyway.

The two brothers tracked their Father, another useful ability that angels have is that they can sense God no matter where He is. It's never really needed though, as God hardly ever left Heaven, thus was fairly easy to find.

They found him on the dock of a small lake, fishing. He turned His head towards them when they arrived and made a sweeping gesture with His hand. The two archangels walked closer until they were facing Him, then sat in the two empty chairs that had appeared upon their arrival.

"Tell me, Dean. How was your training session?" Dean grinned, "it was great! Luci showed me how to do a bunch of stuff. I can call my sword to me now!" God smiled indulgently at the young archangel, a look of pride on His features. He was glad that Dean was so enthusiastic. He was sure He'd made the right choice. After all, there was no one better suited for this job than young Dean Winchester.

"That's wonderful, Dean," God turned to Lucifer, "I'm glad you're getting along so well with him, Lucifer. I know that Michael's departure hit you the hardest out of all the angels."

The morning star's expression fell, becoming stormy instead of sunny, as it had been only seconds before. "Michael made his choice, Father. There was nothing I could do to change his mind." God nodded, looking down with an expression of melancholy similar to Lucifer's.

Dean wanted to do something to brighten the spirits of his new family, but couldn't figure out how. He also had to know what was up with all the Michael business, so decided to ask a question. Tentatively, I might add. He didn't want to make anything worse than it already was.

"Um, guys? What...happened to Michael?" Dean asked softly, unsure whether he was crossing some line. Lucifer looked up at him. "Dean, Michael isn't just missing in action. Well, I mean, that too, but that's only because he doesn't want anyone to find him. Michael...he fell."

At Dean's confused look, the morning star elaborated. "He basically did what I did in the Bible. He fell from Heaven and became the ruler of Hell. When he left...it was tough for everyone. We were used to Michael being the leader, and us backing him up. It was like he was the president, and we were his advisors. With him gone, things have started to fall apart. It was chaos..."

Lucifer trailed off into silence, but Dean got the gist of what he was saying. He understood that it was a touchy subject. He'd felt like this when Sammy had left for college, after all.

"I'm sorry." Lucifer looked at him, surprised. "Dean, it's not your fault. There was nothing you could have done." He sounded shocked that Dean even consider shouldering the blame. Apparently, he wasn't used to other angels owning up for their mistakes. Plus, there was literally no way Dean could have done anything.

God cleared his throat, interrupting anything Dean could have said in response. He quickly and not-so-smoothly changed the subject. "Lucifer, I need you to go with Dean and make some miracles. We really need to get him well known globally. Since he's an archangel, he'll need to be prayed to as much as Gabriel or Raphael. Go anywhere, do anything. Just get the word out. Now hop to it. Chop, chop!"

The archangels didn't need to be told twice. Before God had even finished speaking, they'd both disappeared; the sound of rustling wings lost to the wind.

Dean was back. Since he'd spent only a day or two in Heaven, and time moved slower in the mortal world, it was as though he'd never left in the first place. He appeared with Lucifer in the same motel room he was in before he'd fought that werewolf.

The two archangels sat down heavily on the single bed, flopping onto their backs. They sighed in unison and snuggled into the mattress. Dean turned onto his side and propped his head up using his elbow, looking at Lucifer. The morning star stared back at him for a moment. "So...what do you have in mind for that miracle, Dean?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow at the other archangel.

Dean shrugged, "I'm not really sure. Maybe cure someone of an incurable disease? Or appear in a church full of devout Christians?"

Lucifer nodded, "we could do both. Father did say miracles, not miracle."

Dean smiled, "yeah, sounds good. But later, right now I need a nap." Lucifer snorted, "Dean, you know angels don't need to sleep." It amused the morning star that Dean was trying to hang onto human habits.

Dean smirked, "yeah, I know." With that, he snuggled back into the mattress, closing his eyes. Lucifer curled up close to him on the small bed and was pretty content for about five minutes. But the morning star was an affectionate creature, and Dean laying curled up so close to him too tempting to resist.

Lucifer reached out, wrapping his arms around the almost asleep archangel, and dragged the former hunter across the bed towards him. Dean yelped when Lucifer's hand dug slightly into his wing, it tickled dammit, and struggled to escape from the death grip the other archangel had on him.

He quickly ceased struggling when the morning star began to repeatedly brush a hand through his primary feathers, stroking them softly in an attempt to calm him down. It was relaxing, and Dean yawned once again, snuggling back into Lucifer and falling asleep.

The morning star continued to thread his fingers through Dean's wings, joy radiating throughout his entire body. Angels are naturally affectionate creatures, but only those with a close bond let each other touch their wings. When Dean had leaned into the caress, it showed that he trusted Lucifer.

Surprisingly, the archangels, save Michael, had always been the most openly affectionate in the whole of Heaven. They were tactile, and enjoyed physical signs of affection from other angels. Brushing wings, or returning a hug, for example.

Lucifer wanted to have that samd kind of bond with Dean, and Dean's easy acceptance of Lucifer touching his wings was a strong start. This was good, and made the morning star feel content for the moment. He also felt fiercely protective of Dean, and intended to make sure nothing bad ever happened to him.

To reinforce that thought, Lucifer wrapped his wings around both of them securely, swathing them in warmth and safety for the night.

Dean blinked, taking in the feathers completely surrounding him on all sides, and the slightly possessive way Lucifer was clutching him. Well, this was new.

He moved slightly in a half-hearted attempt at getting up, then realized how bad of an idea that had been when the movement caused Lucifer's hand to brush against his wing, forcing him to suppress a giggle. Cuddling and giggling? Father, he was turning into a giant girl!

Dean couldn't muffle another small laugh that burst out when the hand moved on his wing again. He turned slightly to face Lucifer, only to find that the morning star was awake and staring at him, amusement shining in his eyes.

"Quit that, Lucifer!" The angel in question only gave him an innocent look, and brushed his fingers through Dean's wing once more. Dean snickered quietly at first, but then progressively louder as Lucifer grinned and added another hand.

Dean was now writhing madly, trying to wrench the wings out of Lucifer's grasp, but he wasn't having any luck. The morning star was grinning so insanely, he could have been confused with the Cheshire cat.

Eventually, Dean was able to scramble away from his tormentor, struggling to gain back the ability to breath as he put some distance between himself and the devil. Lucifer walked towards him, and reached out slowly, as though approaching a wounded or frightened animal.

"It's okay, Dean," Lucifer held out his hands in a placating gesture, "I'm not gonna tickle you." Dean held perfectly still as the morning star stretched out a hand and gently scratched his wings. It felt amazing, and Dean instantly began to relax again.

"So," Lucifer inquired as he continued to relax Dean, "what miracle do you want to go with first?"


End file.
